Meanwhile, Oberon the Other Side
Byline: Gary Llewellyn
Dateline: August 5th, 2017
I’ve got legions of invisible demons following me across an open, rolling field. Baal, the first king of Hell has offered to be my general and we’re squaring off against the Fae King and swarms of livid, spear-weirding fairies. I wrote a comic book about this when I was fifteen. The fairies were waiting for us when we got here. How they knew where and when to find us is beyond me, but blaming Stolas will satisfy my need to assign blame, for the time being, so I can concentrate on my current predicament.
The fairies were a disciplined unit, lined up in tight formations. Demons are far more chaotic, more akin to berkerers. The Fae King was mounted on a saddled fox, decked out in warrior king armor, the leaf shaped blade on the end of his spear was gleaming in the sun. Baal looked like an idiot, with his sable lined cape and a crown on each of his heads. Baal skittered up to the invisible line we all seem to have agreed on.
“Oberon,” he bellowed.
“Baal,” the Fae King responded and paused, “We know they’re there, Baal.”
“You know what’s there?”
Oberon sighed and turned his fox around and faced his army, “Artillery. Stardust.”
A regiment of cannoneers aimed, loaded and fired off a row of cannons. Sparkling comets arced overhead, and smashed, exploding into our gaggle of invisible demons, caking them in golden glitter. I now commanded a legion of disco balls shooting lasers of light everywhere in the bright, blue, sunny morning. Invisibility, for however badass you think it may sound, is a pretty easy ability to counter, as it turns out. And flamboyantly so. My legions of berzerker strippers.
Oberon then called on his archers. Fairy archers are no joke, they coat their arrowheads with a poison that turns its victims into trees. Not only an unpleasant way to die, but it really cramps your side of the battlefield when you’re suddenly fighting in a forest. That's when they release the cavalry, which is the best in the world when it comes to fast, agile, close quarters fighting. Fairies are small, ride foxes and carry ridiculous spears. They dart in, kabob two or three of you, then fall back for the next wave, dump the bodies, rinse, repeat.
“Best option is a full charge when the archers release, get in front of the arrows, any that get turned to trees will be behind us. We can’t allow their cavalry the advantage,” Baal bellowed.
I was going to say that, but I’ll let him have this one. I don’t want him to feel like he got all dressed up for nothing.
Baal called the charge out to thousands of fabulous demons. They had dropped the invisibility, because, at this point, why bother? So they were just a frothing, berserking horde of glittery monsters charging toward advancing ranks of fairy pikemen. As they clashed a warhorn began droning from behind us. Rows upon rows of nixies stood on the crest. After a second bleat of the horn, the nixies charged our rear.
“Nixies,” Baal gasped, “Nasty little shits.”
He wasn’t kidding. Imagine regiments of Wolverines bearing down on you. To our left flank was a steep grade sloping to an apex, then rolling down the other side. To our right it was sloped downward. We could either regroup on the high ground and entrench or use momentum and retreat screaming downhill. After running this by Baal, we decided that a screaming retreat, however ignoble, was probably the lesser hassle.
Baal ordered the retreat and our ranks pivoted to our right and we began our retreat. The retreat, however, was short lived. A sea of basilisks converged and rushed toward us.
Guess what kids? This weeks Page Five Ghoul is the basilisk. The long and short of the basilisk is it’s an ugly son of a bitch that runs around on all fours and kills with a gaze. I had to don my trusty anti-basilisk goggles. Do you not have a pair of anti-basilisk goggles? Every junior monster hunter should have their own anti-basilisk goggles. You can get your pair, right here:
Send a SASE and a check or money order for $19.99 to:
Don’t send cash. It’ll get spent on weed.
Gary’s Monster Klub (a division of Kenbro)
777 Mathers Court
Pueblo, CO 81001
(Sorry, Uncy Mort, SEG doesn’t pay that well, or at all, so I had to set up an umbrella corporation in Singapore. Just paying the bills nothing personal. GL)
Well, I had a good run.
A bit of commotion erupted from the fairie's ranks. A seam was being torn down the middle of their center legions, like somebody was pulling a zipper. The bulldozer driving a wedge through the fairy army…
“Is that a tarrasque?” Baal croaked, “It doesn't seem to be on their side.”
“A tarrasque doesn’t have a side.”
“It’s headed straight for us. And it’s followed by kobolds. So many kobolds.”
Kobolds. Those things will just straight up break your neck. A good run indeed.
Promised You A Miracle
Byline: Stephanie Morgan
Dateline: August 5th, 2017
Heya, SEG-ers! The kobold underground has uncovered intelligence on the whereabouts of one Gary Llewellyn. He’s currently marching legions of demons to Lyon, France to hit Interpol where they live. Probably dumb. Probably cocaine. More likely, a bit of both. My plan is to cut him off before he reaches Lyon and smack some sense into him.
The tarrasque, Nathan, is much faster than you would think he would be, given his stumpy bear legs. It’s easy to maintain balance while riding. Though a saddle would make it easier, Nathan. The kobolds manage to keep up too. I don’t know how, but they do. I’ve also picked up just about every goblin between Barcelona and Lyon. As it turns out, goblins are irresistibly drawn to crowds that look like they’re rushing toward something interesting.
We approach an open field. It went on for miles, a rolling green sea. It looked like that Windows wallpaper that was popular about ten years ago. It wasn’t empty. The fairy army was there and getting ready to engage another army of sparkly creatures. I don’t know who the Drag Race castoffs are, but the enemy of my enemy.
“Nathan,” I whispered. “You see those fairies?”
“Oberon’s army,” he said with a dour color. “Oberon is the one who told Martha how to tame me.”
“Sounds like you’d be open to the idea of putting the hurt on Oberon.”
“Just say the word.”
“Great. I have a promise to keep.”